Marti Maley
Bio
Hi 🙂 my name is Marti. I am an artist and healer living in Alaska & Arizona. I believe in good coffee, chihuahuas, and mental health. I love connecting with fellow artists💛 @msmartimaley
Achievements (1)
Stories (34)
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A Fond Farewell
To my oldest friend, I did not want to write this letter. I still don’t. To be completely honest, I have tears in my eyes from how difficult this is to type. I know I need to let you go; gently release my hold on trying to maintain a friendship, and allow you to be free. This letter is my way of doing that.
By Marti Maleyabout a year ago in Humans
Midnight Sun. Runner-up in Summer Solstice Challenge.
My dog trots happily behind my boyfriend, occasionally looking back to make sure I haven’t been separated from the pack. Midnight is only minutes away, and as usual, we’re running late. For the first time in over fifty years, the entire town is gathering by the river to honor and celebrate the summer solstice. That may sound impressive, but the reality is that there are barely 2,000 residents in the small town of Girdwood, which makes for a close-knit (granted, sometimes too close) community. People are bound to gossip if we are late, but I don’t care. The sky is too beautiful. People wonder how Alaskans can tolerate such long, harsh winters— for them, not even a summer of endless daylight can justify nine months of darkness. But these people have never witnessed snow-capped mountains kissing white clouds in a cool blue sky in the middle of the night. I breathe in deeply. The air smells like the rainforest—crisp, green, and invigorating. And the sounds: river rushing, birds chirping, twigs snapping beneath my feet. Everything is alive. My dog stops in the middle of the path again, looking back impatiently. I catch up with her and my boyfriend, who is used to my trailing behind; understanding my need for walking in the woods to be a moving meditation.
By Marti Maley2 years ago in Fiction
An English Fairy Tale
I watch the tiny bubbles of my champagne race to the top of the delicate glass, the effervescence hypnotizing. I am perched on a stool in a First Class Lounge at the Seattle airport, surrounded by stiff businessman and wealthy middle aged ladies, only minutes away from boarding. I feel drastically out of place, with my oversize Top Gun sweatshirt and unwashed hair, and am reminded of Cinderella. Surely she must have experienced imposter syndrome at such a fancy ball surrounded by the rich and entitled, yet somehow she managed to pull it off. I catch a lady clad almost entirely in Chanel eyeing the holes in my sweatpants.
By Marti Maley2 years ago in Wander
Clinging to Childhood. Top Story - April 2024.
The playground is empty, as it should be past sundown. There is a warm breeze, and I can see everything despite the late hour. What time is it, anyway? It could very well be past midnight. I can never keep track of time, especially in the summer. A prickly piece of popcorn hides like a stowaway in the left cup of my padded training bra. I stuffed the tissue in last minute— a decision I’m beginning to regret, based on the events that are unfolding rapidly before me. To my left, laying non-chalantly on his back, is my date for the evening. He is two years older, could probably grow facial hair if he wanted to, and drives a secondhand Honda. He may as well be a Man. I, on the other hand, feel like a fraud with my too-short short-shorts, sparkly lip gloss, and makeshift push-up bra. I keep my arms pinned to my sides as I feel the dreaded circles of sweat beginning to manifest on my brand new Abercrombie top. I cup my elbows with my hands and stare down at my hint of cleavage, praying that the tissue doesn’t pop out like a white flag surrendouring my lack of womanhood.
By Marti Maley2 years ago in Fiction
